Hush
by AReasonToSwim
Summary: Grace had to grow up sometime. Now it's her turn to be cured. But the problem is, does she want to? Her life begins to spin out of control with only her best friend, Jax, standing by her side. Will she find the courage to speak the words, or will she remain hush?
1. Not So Good Morning

**A/N: Gracie was bound to grow up sometime, so here it is. Gracie hasn't spoken a word to anyone, but now that twelve years has passed and it's time for Gracie to be cured, what will happen?**

**THIS IS NOT MY ORIGIONAL FIRST CHAPTER. I'm rewriting it because the one I originally posted was so crappy. I am currently working on redoing chapter 2 as well. **

**DISCLAIMER: Lauren Oliver owns the world of **_**Delirium**_**. I'm simply playing with it.**

* * *

Not So Good Morning

My eyes snap open seconds before my alarm clock goes off.

_Just get through today, Grace. Just one more day. 24 more hours. You can do it. You've done it before._

I'm not exactly sure when this whole putting myself down thing started, but I tell myself the same exact thing every morning when I wake up. Before I fall asleep, I wish upon all wishes that that's the end of it and that the next morning I don't wake up.

I've always felt trapped in the world we live in. Everyone tells me how bad _deliria_ is. They think it's the worst thing possible. The deadliest of deadly diseases. Maybe everyone has it all wrong. Maybe love is great and everything else is wrong. Maybe instead of love destroying us from the inside out, they're the ones destroying us. I'm not sure. I don't trust many people and I think that's why I think this way.

I sit up and rub the sleep from my grey eyes with the heel of my hand. I peek over at Jenny's old bed, and then Lena's. The house feels so empty without them. Jenny's been cured for three years now. Lena on the other hand… I haven't seen her since I was six years old. I feel as if I shouldn't remember her, like I was too young then to remember that much. But I do remember. I remember everything.

Carol appears in the doorway. She leans against the door frame and cocks her head to the side, studying me. "Are you nervous about today?" Oh. Right. Today was evaluation day. What a joy. Not.

I don't reply. I've never replied to her, or anyone for that matter. Only one syllable have I ever allowed to escape my lips. I try not to think of that day, though.

"Please talk to them," Carol says. "For me,"

I say nothing.

If I don't talk, I don't get a good evaluation score. Although, I couldn't care less about my evaluation scores. The only thing in my life I really care about passing is my board scores. I aced every single one of them. I am an excellent student, if I do say so myself. I even graduated a year early and was at the top of my class. My grades combined with my board scores finally got through to Carol, teaching her that I'm not "as dumb as a rock" like she used to think.

Today's evaluations are going to suck. I sure as hell wasn't going to even open my mouth for them. They think they can get whatever they want out of us. I'm not their guinea pig. Too many people I love have proved me right on this one.

Carol knocks me right out of my train of thought. "Go get cleaned up," she says. "Come downstairs and I'll do you're makeup.

I made a face. I hate makeup. Carol smiled, says "You have one hour," and then makes her way downstairs.

I can tell she's worried. It's crucial that I get paired with a good boy, one who will actually make it somewhere in life. Carol knows, though, she knows somewhere deep, deep down inside of her that that's never going to happen. And if you look even deeper, she knows that getting paired with someone good was a joke, and a pretty comical one at that.

I quickly scramble to my feet and grab the green bin from under my bed. I take out my towel and shove the bin back under my bed.

I sigh and as I make my way to the bathroom I think to myself:

_Here goes nothing._

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! I know it's short, but there's more coming soon I promise!**


	2. And Now We Wait

**A/N: Sorry last chapter was bad and kind of confusing. I hope this one's a little better.**

**THIS IS NOT MY ORIGIONAL SECOND CHAPTER! My original one was so super crappy that I've decided to scrap it and re-write it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Lauren Oliver owns the world of **_**Delirium**_**. I'm just playing with it.**

* * *

And Now We Wait

"They want to get to know you and your personality, but the more generalized your answers are, the more of a chance there is to receive a variety of different positions." I give a slight nod. "Remember, your favorite color is blue. Or green. Black is too morbid, red will set them on edge, pink is juvenile, and orange is freakish." Another nod and she continues. "Your hobbies include hanging out with your friends…" She's cut off when the alarm on her watch goes off. With a sigh she says, "Please talk to them, sweetheart. I know you can. You've spoken to me before."

Oh. Right. I try to make myself forget speaking out loud and the reason behind it, though I often can't help it.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, open the door, and get out of the car without saying a word. As usual.

The laboratories are like all of the other government offices: A string of bright white buildings, glistening like teeth over the slurping mouth of the ocean.

The makeup Aunt Carol made me wear is thick and heavy on my skin. It makes me feel coated and slick as it begins to melt away in the summer heat. I don't like makeup. I'm not interested in clothes or lip gloss, but instead natural beauty. Kind of like how the ocean's waves refuse to stop kissing the shore no matter how many times they are sent away.

There's a double line forming in front of the building. One line's for girls and the other is for boys. I quickly make my way over to the girls' line and begin to mentally prepare myself for the long wait beneath the heat of the summer sun.

I see my best friend, Jax, in a cluster of boys in the unorganized line formed at the other side of the building. We accidentally make eye contact. My first instinct is to quickly look away, but that would give too much away. So Jax slightly bows his head, just as if we were strangers greeting each other on a street before moving on. He turns back to his friends.. I don't know how he does it. He's just too good at pretending.

"Grace!" I hear a familiar voice shout from behind me. I turned to find Kristine coming right towards me. "Grace. Hey! Big day, huh? I can't believe it's here already!"

Kristine's my other friend. The friend I'm allowed to hang out with. Kristine and I met in school, and pretty much our relationship works only because she talks too much and I don't talk at all.

"You look really pretty today. Are you wearing makeup? Oh my gosh and your hair! It looks absolutely amazing! You should wear it like that more often. I think it was a good idea to get all done up for the evaluators. It's not just about your personality, you know. To them looks count too-."

She's cut off by the nurse who comes outside and passes out clipboards to the first few people in line. I'm surprised to find out I am one of those people. How time flies when Kristine is blabbing your ear off…. Then again we are pretty early and some of the first people to get here.

The nurse gives us some directions on filling them out, but I'm already halfway done. The questions are pretty easy and generic: Last name, First Name, Middle Initial, Current Address, stuff like that. If I was going to do anything right today, it would be the paperwork.

"Wow, these questions are so hard!" Kristine exclaims. "How are you doing yours so quickly? I'm stuck on the one about how I feel about school. I don't want to lie to them, but I don't want them to know I think it was the worst thing ever invented. What did you put down? What page are you on? Oh my God, Grace you need a speeding ticket or something, you're too fast at this. How are you almost done?"

I let her babble on.

"Next," the nurse says. "Excuse me, miss, next."

I zone back in quickly. Great. It's my turn.

Kristine leans in from behind me and whispers in my ear, "Good luck, Grace." It's probably the shortest collection of words to ever come out of her mouth.

I hand the nurse my clipboard and pen. She takes it and leads me into the building, her heels clacking as she walks.

Mentally, I prepare myself for my own personal hell.


	3. Memories

**A/N: I haven't updated in FOREVER! Sorry for such a long wait. I've been super busy with everything lately. **

**I went back and re-read the first two chapters. They are so crappy and you can't understand half of it. I can't even take it. So I'm going to try my best to make the rest of this story better.**

**Anyway, without further ado, I present you with chapter 3 of **_**Hush**_**.**

**DISCLAIMER: Lauren Oliver owns the world of **_**Delirium**_**. I'm simply playing with it.**

* * *

Memories

I remember clawing at the cord. I remember the cord snapping. I remember her hugging me. I remember her asking about Uncle William. I remember nodding, then signaling sleep with my head on my hands like a game of charades. I remember her asking if there were regulators. I remember holding up two fingers. I remember her getting up and looking out the window. I remember the loud sound of the motor. I remember her face lighting up, and her little cry of joy. I remember her muttered curse. I remember the motor stopping and her softly calling his name. I remember the bedroom door flying open and Uncle William yelling. I remember Aunt Carol rushing in. I remember her slamming against the screen, but to no avail. I remember hearing Alex shout something from below, and the loud motor starting again. I remember her pounding into the screen again and again. I remember Uncle William rushing towards her. But then what? I can never seem to remember. Until now.

I remember yelling, "Wait!" I remember the world stopping for a split second at my command. I remember the screen giving into her. I remember her swinging out of the window without hesitation. I remember her getting onto the back of the motorcycle. I remember them driving away. I remember never seeing her again.

These memories come flooding back to me as I sit in the laboratory waiting room.

A nurse comes and takes my clipboard from me. She quickly flips through the pages. "Grace Tiddle?" she says in a chipper voice. My legal last name is Tiddle, though it's not my father's. After my parents died Aunt Carol adopted my sister Jenny and me, legally changing both of our last names to a ridiculous Tiddle.

I nod.

"Follow me." The nurse begins down the blindingly bright hallway and I follow her and the annoying click of her shoes on the linoleum.

I'm surprised by how calm I am, especially compared to the rest of the girls. I guess that's what you get when you're prepared for the worst.

The hallway seems to go on forever, just like the evaluations. They can last anywhere from half an hour to two hours. Typically the longer the evaluators keep you, the better you're doing. But that's not always true. Jenny told me about a girl, Marcy Davies I think her name was, who was astonishingly in and out of the lab in forty-five minutes and scored a perfect ten. And everybody knows Corey Windle holds the all-time record for longest evaluation—three and a half hours—and managed to only score a three. Obviously there's a system behind evaluations, but there's always some degree of randomness thrown in there.

Finally, the nurse stops at a door which looks identical to the rest. "You'll be in here." she says. "Leave your clothes in the antechamber. Please remember when you put on the gown that's provided, leave it open in the back. Feel free to take a moment, drink some water, do some meditation. Just remember that the longer you take, the less time the evaluators will have to get to know you. When you're ready, go through the blue door. The evaluators will be waiting for you in the lab." She smiles then clicks back down the hall to the waiting room.

I enter the antechamber. It looks just like a regular doctor's examination room. The thick walls that muffle sounds make me feel suffocated, isolated from the sun and the wind.

I quickly peel of my clothes which are sticking to my gross sweat. I put them all in a neat pile on the tissue-paper-covered examination table and slip on the gown. It's huge on my tiny figure. I look down at its sheer plastic and sigh. I wrap it around my body and secure it at the waist with a knot. You can see everything through the gown's fabric.

I push through the heavy blue door. The lab is even brighter than the rest of the building. Four evaluators sit behind a long, low table. The room is very large and completely empty except for the evaluators and a stainless steel surgical table which is shoved up against the wall in the corner. Overhead lights beat down on me from the thirty foot high ceiling.

One of the evaluators, a young man, speaks first. "Do you have your forms?"

I walk across the room and hand them my clipboard. There's a young man, a middle-aged woman, a woman with glasses, and an elderly man. I scan the row quickly then take a couple steps back.

The young man quickly skims through my responses and then speaks again. "Grace Tiddle?"

Again, I nod.

"Listed here," he says tapping one of the pages "is _inability to speak_. I don't quite understand."

"It means she can't talk." Evaluator Four, the elderly man, explains.

The young man, Evaluator One, replies, "I understand that much. My question is whether she _can't_ speak or she _won't_ speak."

Four sets of eyes bore into mine. I swallow audibly.

"Well which one is it?" Evaluator Four asks at the same time Evaluator Three, the one with the glasses, asks, "Would you like some water?"

I look down at the table where a bottle of water with a clear cup is set. With trembling hands, I step forward and grab the bottle. I twist off the cap and pour a small amount of water into the cup. Thankful for the second to think, I take my time drinking it.

"She can obviously understand us," the middle aged evaluator, Evaluator Two, remarks.

"Obviously," Evaluator One says. "Just look at her board scores."

The three other evaluators shuffle through their papers. Evaluator Three's eyes bulge out of her head in shock. She clears her throat and then says calmly, "Too bad grades don't count toward your evaluation score." I could tell she didn't mean it. I could tell she was actually quite pleased grades don't count.

Evaluator One leans forward, his hazel eyes on mine. "Grace, can you speak?" he asks slowly and clearly, which makes me feel like a stupid little kid.

I nod without thinking.

"Will you tell us why you chose not to?"

I think about it for a fraction of a second. _Don't give into them, Grace. You're better than this._ I think to myself. I shake my head no.

"Will you speak at all?"

I shake my head no again.

Evaluator One sighs and leans back in his chair. Embarrassed, I look down at my bare feet. I feel my face redden. Why was I so embarrassed? Good question. I'd love to know.

Evaluator Two speaks gently saying, "Grace, I'm sorry but if you won't speak I'm afraid we will have to let you go, and you will have to take a zero."

I sigh, look up, and go down the row, making eye contact with each one of them.

Out of the blue, another memory of Lena hit me. I remember she was looking out the window, watching the sunrise.

I look down at the edge of the steel table and announce, with much difficulty, "My favorite color is grey." The same words Lena said to me many years ago.

"Grey?" Evaluator Four sputters back. The exact statement my face read when Lena told me.

I don't meet any of the evaluator's gazes.

"Not grey, exactly." I say quoting Lena as best as I can remember, except my voice is much more flat, striving for as monotone as I can make it sound. "Right before the sun rises there's a moment when the whole sky goes this pale nothing color—not not really grey but sort of, or sort of white, and I've always really liked it because it reminds me of waiting for something good to happen."

And with that I tore my eyes form the table, whipped myself around, and walked right out the door without a second thought and without looking back.

* * *

**A/N: That's all for now! Thank you for reading! There's more to come soon, I promise. I'll try my best not to make you guys wait so long again. Oh! And I'm working on a cover so yeah look out for that!**


	4. Sneaking Out

**A/N: It's been a while since I've updated you and I'm so sorry! I've been busy, and I did redo chapters one and two because they were really bad, so if you haven't seen them yet be sure to check them out! I also added a cover. Like it? It says: HUSH. _silence is golden_.**

* * *

Sneaking Out

"Goodnight mom!" Kristine shouted over her shoulder as we pounded up the stairs.

"Night, Kristine. Goodnight, Grace," her mother responded.

Into Kristine's room we went. It was a small room with cheerful yellow walls. There wasn't much in it, just the basics. There was a bed shoved into a corner, a desk, bookshelf, and a vanity pushed up against one wall. I plopped my bag down on her queen-sized bed and started shuffling through the items.

"Ugh, I can't wait for this. Evaluations were just brutal," Kristine started on a long tangent of how horribly she messed her evaluations up. I ended up just tuning out.

By now we both knew the drill. I quickly got out of my pajamas and got into my new clothes as Kristine started on her makeup. Tonight I was wearing a black v-neck, so large it hit the middle of my thigh. I synched the men's shirt at my waist with a gold belt and layered a bunch of gold necklaces on top and added some gold bracelets. Some wide fishnet stockings and some golden combat boots completed my outfit.

"Cute!" Kristine exclaimed when she saw what I was wearing. "Now sit. It's your turn for makeup."

I didn't like makeup, except if Kristine did it. She made it look good, and she made sure it wasn't caked on.

By the time she was finished my lips were glossed, my skin was bronzed, and my eyes were rimmed with black.

Kristine began slicking my dirty blonde hair back into a ponytail. "You look so pretty with your hair pulled back."

I smiled a small thank you.

She began twisting an elastic around the base of the ponytail to keep it in place.

"Let me get dressed and then we'll go."

She changed quickly, then turned and presented herself. Kristine was very pretty. She had a tall, thin figure. Tonight her hair was curled, sending a waterfall of dark waves cascading down her torso, clinging itself to her waist. A red bandana was tied on top of her head like a headband. Tonight she wore a long-sleeved henley shirt and a pair of black almost-too-short overalls. Her bright green eyes were lined and winged and her lips were stained a bright red.

"Great," she smiled. "Now for shoes."

She dug around in her closet for a good minute before pulling out an old scuffed-up pair of black Chucks. "Ah-ha!" she exclaimed holding up one of the shoes. "Perfect."

She grabbed some tube socks with three black stripes on the top and scuffled to get the socks and the sneakers on. Some may say tube socks weren't sexy, but Kristine _made_ them sexy. Almost like it was against the socks' will. Almost like Kristine owned the socks' souls.

Some makeup touch ups, some perfume sprayed, some breath checks, and we were ready to go.

"Oh!" Kristine exclaimed just as we were about to leave. "I almost forgot."

She turned on her radio and lowered the volume. As far as her mother knows, Kristine "sleeps" to that music. Of course, on the nights we don't go out, Kristine has to be a trooper and live through it and fall asleep to that crap in the Hundred Songs.

I flicked the lights off.

"Now we're ready."

* * *

The streets were silent as we tip-toed our way to the party. Deering Highlands was a huge maze of winding streets that all look similar, houses looming out of the darkness like ships run aground.

We turn onto Tanglewild lane. This journey is pretty much just a part of our subconscious now. We go to these parties so often, and there are only about three places people throw them.

I catch a dull light burning in the distance behind a knotted mass of trees. There it is.

An old mailbox is staked crookedly in the ground next to the driveway. Two black X's were still faintly visible on its sides, which can only mean one thing: it's been raided twice.

But here we are, 42 Tangelwild Lane. Our destination.

Tonight's party was huge. A choking curtain of cigarette smoke hit us on the way in. I loved it. It's at least ten degrees hotter in here than it was outside, which I love, too. I love almost everything about this place. I felt like I loved it so much I could float away.

I'm not afraid of love like everybody else seems to be. Pretty much my whole family has been affected by the _deliria_. Rachel, Lena, their mother, Jenny, possibly my mother (we'll never know will we) have been infected. Rachel and Jenny have been cured. I just have to accept that love courses through my veins.

Everyone's sweating, everyone's laughing, everyone's just here to have fun.

I look around and see hands touching hands, bodies bumping together, and even some lips meeting. It's beautiful.

Kristine and I climb down to the basement. There were people everywhere. Laughing, joking, just here to have a good time. A band was playing in the background. They were good, too. It wasn't the type of music you could download off of LAMM.

"Kristine!" someone calls. "Kristine. Hey."

It was Blake Davison. I've never seen him before but Kristine gushed to me about him all the time. And as usual, she was right. He was handsome. He was tall. A little taller than Kristine. His hair was jet black and geld into kind of a fohawk. His eyes were a deep blue, an eye color you wouldn't normally see.

"What's up?" he asked her while offering her his cup.

"Nothing really. Just got here," she replied. She took the red plastic cup and looked inside. "What is this?"

Blake replied simply, "Vodka,"

"Oh," Kristine said. "Vodka's always the first to go. I've never had it." She put the cup to her lips and took a sip.

She turned to me and offered me Blake's cup. "Try some," she said. "It's good."

Hesitantly, I lifted the cup to my lips and took a long sip. She was right. It was good. It was strong too, and it burned on the way down.

"Who's this?" Blake asked.

Kristine smiled and threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to her. "This," she said, "is my Gracie. No, you are not allowed to call her Gracie, only I can because I am one of her best friends, even though she probably likes Jax more because he doesn't talk so much. Anyway, her name's Grace. She doesn't want to talk."

Blake smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Grace. I'm Blake."

I gave him a small smile.

"Speaking of Jax," Kristine said. "Here he comes."

I looked to where Kristine was looking. I saw him immediately. He was shirtless and a little tipsy. He saw us and cupped his hands around his mouth and called, "The party has just arrived. Ladies and gents I present to you the lovely Kristine and the magnificent Grace."

No one else was really paying attention to him, but Kristine and I erupted into laughter.

He made his way over to us, and then gathered Kristine and me into a bear hug. "I like you guys. You're pretty cool."

He let us go. Blake caught Kristine and put his arms around her waist. Kristine let out a giggle and turned in his arms to face us.

Jax's green eyes lit up with excitement. "I almost forgot," he said. He began digging around in his pocket, and soon pulled out a joint. "Specially rolled, just for you," he told me. I smiled thanks, and he stuck it in my mouth. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the end for me.

"Don't worry, Krissie, I didn't forget you." Jax tossed her two joints and the lighter. Kristine stuck one in Blake's mouth, then lit her own, and handed him the lighter. Jax lit another one for himself.

"Thanks, Jax!" Kristine exclaimed.

"Anytime," Jax said, throwing his arm around me.

Kristine shot me "the look". It was the look that said "he's totally into you that whole 'best friend' act is bullshit." She totally believed that Jax and I were meant to be more than friends.

I shot her the "no he's not" look.

The four of us sat there in silence for a minute, just smoking.

Blake was the first to stomp his out. He craned his neck and whispered something in Kristine's ear. She giggled and stomped out her joint, too. She turned herself around in his arms, threw her arms around his neck, stood on her tip-toes, and whispered something into his ear.

He smiled a greedy little smile. He let his hands slide further down her back.

Jax whispered in my ear, "We should leave them alone. I have a feeling they need some privacy."

I nodded in agreement. Jax grabbed my hand and began to lead me somewhere.

I snuck one last look over my shoulder and saw Blake's lips meet Kristine's.

So many laws were broken at these parties. I shouldn't be surprised by something as simple as a kiss, but I was. Maybe it was because Kristine was one of my best friends.

Jax lead me to the edge of the dance floor. We stood there for a minute, hand in hand. It was oddly comforting in the simplest of ways. Holding hands is such an innocent gesture. Feeling his hand touch the palm of mine made it feel like I had the entire world at my fingertips. I felt my cheeks get warm, turning into a shade of rosy pink and my heart was pounding like a drum. His grasp so tight it felt like it was impossible to let go. His hand seemed to fit right into mine as if it was meant to be that way. So beautiful and satisfying with a rush of different emotions. Just the knowledge of our hands linked together made my heart even fonder. I could literally feel how close we were to each other. Is this how you're supposed to feel about your best friend?

The music changed. My favorite song came blasting out of the big speakers.

Jax leaned down and said over the music and into my ear, "Dance with me." It wasn't a question, but there wasn't a demanding tone in his voice over.

I looked down at our hands, still clasped together, then back up at him. I smiled and nodded.

His smile pushed up his tan freckle-splattered cheeks and lit up his bright green eyes. He led me to the middle of the dance floor.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck. It just felt like the right thing to do. His hands found my hips.

"This is your favorite song," he recalled.

I smiled approvingly.

Soon the song was over, and the next one came on. I sighed and put my head on his still bare chest. Feeling him breathe was strangely fascinating to me.

We stood like that for a few songs. My arms around his neck. My head on his chest. His hands on my hips. His head resting on my head. The two of us. Together. Eventually I realized that we weren't even dancing anymore.

"Tell me a secret," he said into my hair.

I pulled my head away from his chest and looked up at him, confusion written all over my face.

"I'm sorry," Jax said. "I know I promised I wouldn't badger you to talk like everyone else does. It's just… I don't know. Tell me a something. Anything. It doesn't have to be a secret."

I looked up at him for a minute. I didn't know what to do. What was there to do? What was the big deal? This was just Jax. He was my best friend.

I stood on my tip-toes and put my lips to his ear. I knew what I wanted to say, but the words couldn't find their way out.

"I'm not afraid." I eventually managed.

I knew he knew what I was talking about. I knew he knew the _deliria_ was the least of my fears. I sighed again and put my head in the crook in between his neck and his shoulder.

He turned his face into my hair and mumbled "That makes two of us, Grace."


	5. Cigarettes and Sweatshirts

**A/N: I haven't updated in a while. Sorry! Exams are coming up. This is a really quick and short chapter because I haven't had anything up in a while so I didn't want to keep you waiting too long, but I apologize in advance for the length and lack of purpose to the story, but you do get a little one on one time with Kristine. A lot more chapters are (hopefully) coming soon! Just another reminder that I redid chapters one and two because I didn't like them when I read them again, so if you haven't seen those yet be sure to check them out. Oh! And I added a cover. I don't remember if I've already told you that but do you like it? **

**Alright, on with the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: Lauren Oliver owns the world of **_**Delirium**_**. I am simply playing with it.**

* * *

Cigarettes and Sweatshirts

The cool night air had a slight bite to it that dared to nip at my cheeks. Kristine and I sat on her balcony, smoking cigarettes, looking out at the dark sky flecked with small white spots, which made it look as if the light had managed to break through in some spots. Ultimately, the dark still dominated.

The midnight atmosphere may as well have been a metaphor for my life.

"Tonight was seriously _amazing_," Kristine exhaled in a breath of cigarette smoke. "Seriously, it was one of the best parties yet."

She was right. While her and Blake were off doing whatever they were doing, Jax and I were dancing, drinking, and having a great time together. I wasn't asked to talk anymore and Jax filled the silence with his words.

"Blake is _so_ adorable, Grace. You don't even understand. He's a great kisser, too. I'm a little upset that he didn't ask me to dance, but we didn't have time for both kissing and dancing and you and I both know which one I'd rather have."

I couldn't help but smile at that. I took a drag from my cigarette.

She continued, her wide green eyes even wider as she spoke, "Speaking of dancing, little miss, when _exactly_ are you planning on telling me about you and Jax, huh? I saw you dancing and holding hands and he was totally into you and don't even lie to me you're totally into him." Her sentences always seem to just blend together and her words always seemed exaggerated.

I chuckled a little and shook my head. I took one last puff and stomped out my left over cigarette butt.

"Do not lie to me, Grace Tiddle. You're _totally_ lying. You wouldn't have taken his sweatshirt if you weren't into him."

The confusion must have translated directly onto my face because Kristine had to gesture towards my torso. I looked down and there was Jax's hoddie, big and loose and warm like a big cloud that smelt like him surrounding me, protecting me. I don't know how I forgot about it.

I take a minute to comb back through my memory.

_"I should probably put my shirt back on now," _I suddenly remember Jax saying. _"And you should put some pants on."_

_ I roll my eyes at Jax's comment and brush it off._

_ We're standing outside of the party house, Jax keeping me company, as I wait for Kristine to finish up whatever she's doing. It's time to get going._

_ "Not that I mind or anything," he says playfully. I jokingly and lightly hit his arm. He smiles and continues, "But seriously you look like you're going to freeze to death."_

_ For the first time I notice I'm shivering. Jax slides his black t-shirt over his head. The hem of the shirt covers the top of his red boxers which peaked out of his jeans all night, exposed to all eyes. A completely illegal act._

_ "See, now we match," he points to my own plain black tee. _

_ He picks his sweatshirt up from the cold ground before his feet, where he set it to have mobility of both arms to put his shirt back on. _

_ "Now," he says, "I'd be all romantic like in the movies and drape it over your shoulders and whatnot, but it's a pullover."_

_ I laugh at that as I catch the grey bundle of fabric as he throws it to me. I slip it over my head. The hem goes past the hem of my own oversized shirt, and the sleeves go far past my hands so I roll them up a few times. _

_ Jax leans in a little closer to me and opens his mouth to say something._

_ "Alrighty!" Kristine's voice exclaims as she comes out of the house to join us. "Sorry, Romeo, me and Gracie have to go but we'll all hang tomorrow, okay? Regular time, regular place. Be there or be square." She smiles at him and then she grabs my hand and we make our way back to her house._

"How long have you had that?" Kristine smiled. "When are you gonna give it back? Or are you never gonna give it back? Oh my god it could be like one of those symbols of your relationship that would be so cute!"

I rolled my eyes at her and looked back up at the sky, wondering if Jax was looking there too, wondering if he was thinking of his own metaphors for it, wondering if he was thinking of me.


End file.
